


I'm bad behavior but I do it in the best way

by Artikbear



Category: Tom Clancy's Rainbow Six (Video Games)
Genre: Drug Use, Hand Jobs, Implied/Referenced Breathplay, Implied/Referenced Rough Sex, M/M, Masochism, Porn with Feelings, most of the demons are off the scene
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-14
Updated: 2019-10-14
Packaged: 2020-12-16 09:10:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,104
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21033812
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Artikbear/pseuds/Artikbear
Summary: Jäger is on damage control duty. Bandit, of course, makes it more complicated than it has to be.





	I'm bad behavior but I do it in the best way

**Author's Note:**

> The title is from [this song.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=l9PxOanFjxQ)

For a man of science, Jäger is surprisingly superstitious.

It's not like he believes that black cats will bring bad luck, or stepping on a crack will break someone’s backbone, nothing specific as such. But he believes in vague, ominous signs lying in plain sight. They might not stand out as significant on their own, but once you connect the dots, you'll see the bigger picture.

Bandit has been unusually quiet this whole week, not a single prank or an inappropriate joke thrown at people's frowning faces—a bad sign, the first hint that something is wrong. Blitz and IQ, who are far better than him at handling Bandit at his worst, are both half the world away on a mission—another bad sign. And just now, Doc has confirmed that Bandit requested to skip afternoon trainings, claiming he wasn't feeling well although showing no visible symptoms, and slipped away from the base before he could even mention the word examination—the final sign, and the worst one, clear as the writing on the wall, sealing his fate.

All things considered, the will of universe seems absolutely determined to fuck him.

He's never been in this exact situation before. It has been always Blitz's job to go and fetch Bandit (they usually don't come back until dawn, Blitz with heavy set in his shoulders, dragging his teammate by the wrist, Bandit oddly tame in his grip) when he goes into these… periods, but Jäger has the general idea of what to expect. Blitz gave him a thorough instruction on this, in case he couldn't be around, and finally his effort is paying off. Jäger hoped it never would, but here he is, driving through the dead of the night with his phone on the passenger seat, blaring the endless string of the dial tone—it makes the weirdest traveling company ever. 

"Pick up, please, just pick up," he repeats under his breath like a mantra, as the call goes into voicemail once again; he doesn't know if there is any kind of emergency, but he sure does feel like he's heading into one. The adrenaline in his blood is making his mind run a million miles an hour, summoning dark images of blood and violence. Of course, Bandit is more than capable of protecting his own ass, but he's probably not really himself right now, and also the chance that he might be the one _ causing _ the blood to spill isn’t exactly slim. 

Bandit picks up about ten minutes later, which feel like at least an hour of mental torture to Jäger. His answer, on the speaker, sounds almost bored. 

"Yes?"

Jäger recalls Blitz's voice, walking him through each step. He's on his way to the first one—pin him down on the map.

"Your location. Text. Now."

Bandit scoffs at his attempt to sound stern. "What are you doing, impersonating Elias? You actually sound worse than him."

"Shut up. Just, where the heck are you?"

"Las Vegas."

"I'm serious, Dominic." Jäger tries to give off the impression that he knows what he's doing, which is a blatant lie, and Bandit is the last person who'd be fooled by him. Bandit sighs to the phone.

"Look, everything is fine here. Just go back to your bed and sleep, for fuck's sake. Do you have any idea what time it is?" 

He is changing his tactic, going from being unhelpful to reassuring Jäger that there isn’t any problem. Blitz has specifically warned about this.

"I'm already on my way. And you don't sound like you've been sleeping, either."

"Why does it matter if I'm sleeping or not?" Now he's just changing subjects and stalling. Being evasive is like a second nature to Bandit; he probably can't help himself, at this point. Still Jäger doesn't feel any kinder toward him, when he's developing a headache from being nervous for too long.

"Your fucking location, I said. Now."

"Are you that eager to see me?" Jäger can tell that he's not happy, despite the smirk in his voice, but he finally gives in. The message contains the address and his room number of a cheap-ass motel, thankfully only a few blocks away. Blitz told him to look for him in the shittiest part of the town, and apparently he just _ knows _ what Bandit will do even when he's several continents away.

The door of his room isn't locked, and when he enters, Bandit is standing by the window, lazily smoking a cigarette and stark naked except for the ink on his skin. Jäger isn't surprised, but he needs a moment to get a grip on his composure. The very air smells like sex, and it's nothing like seeing him without his clothes in the communal shower. 

_ At least he remembered protection, _ he thinks, gingerly avoiding empty packets and used condoms strewn across the floor on his way to the man. Bandit's reflection on the dirty window pane is expressionless. Apart from the street lamps, the only light source in the room is the tip of his cigarette, glowing cherry-red, so it takes a while for him to notice the bruise around his neck. It's shockingly vivid purple, fading into dark red around the edge. 

"_Fuck._ What happened? Who did it?"

"I asked him to," says Bandit, merely shrugging. "It's fine, it won't show over the hood. I'm not stupid." 

His voice is nonchalant as if they're talking about a plain hickey, instead of two distinct hand marks on his fucking windpipe. Jäger feels dizzy, like he's the one being choked until his vision blurs.

"You asked a total stranger to strangle you?"

"Well, he was high enough to agree," says Bandit, little irritated now, signaling Jäger should drop the topic, but he _ can't. _ He can't help but imagine how it must have been like, hands bigger than his own curling on Bandit's neck, looking for the pulse point only to crush it down. Bandit might be a good fighter, his willingness to fight dirty making up for the weight difference, but in a vulnerable position like that—it would be so easy to _ complete _ the act. Hold him down until his thrashing stops for good. Jäger suppresses down a shiver.

Bandit takes a last long drag before he stubbs the cigarette out on the windowsill. Then he turns around to look at Jäger properly, for the first time since he stepped into the room.

"Do you wanna touch it?" 

With his voice low like this, it's like they're sharing a secret, and Jäger can't _ think, _he doesn't understand what brought the sudden shift in his attitude.

"Why would I—," he starts, but it's too late. Bandit already has both his hands in his own, and he drags them up until his fingertips are pressed lightly on the colored skin, and _ oh, _ they're warm to the touch, maybe more so than the rest of his body. Bandit huffs softly at the residual pain, and it's better than any filthy moans he's ever heard—Jäger is _ fascinated. _

And Bandit must know that expression, how can he not. He leans forward to kiss him. He tastes like cigarette and cheap beer, his lips are chapped and dry, and Jäger can't get enough of it. 

He pushes him away harder than he intends to, flinching at the feeling of bare chest under his hand. Bandit doesn't stumble, as if he knew it was coming.

"Tell me you don't want this, and I'll back off."

"Dom, I don't think this is—"

"Then tell me," he repeats, "you don't want this."

But he _does,_ that's the problem, and how can he be this calm when Jäger is burning up with the simple idea of _ I want, want, want. _He takes a step closer against his will. Bandit's answering smile is taunting.

The kiss remains chaste, and it almost feels sweet, but Jäger isn't fooled; Bandit is just too drained out of energy to initiate a proper makeout session. Jäger licks at the chapped ridge of his bottom lip, and Bandit hums.

"Do you want to fuck me?" he asks as they part, his breath hot and ticklish against his jaw, and Jäger has to grit his teeth to refrain from saying _ yes. _

"Not like this," he whispers, and he means it. Not like this, when he's already sore and bruised, not when he's only chasing after every possible sensory input to make his withdrawal more bearable. Bandit doesn't look like he's disappointed.

"Suit yourself," he shrugs again, and sways closer for some reason.

"What," asks Jäger, warily.

"At least jerk me off, then. I need something. You don't know how bad it gets."

He doesn't know, and he isn't keen on finding out. Watching Bandit struggling to fill the hollowness in his chest with anything he can get his hands on—pain, pleasure, violence and self-destruction—and making a mess of himself in the process, is way more than enough.

"Okay," he says softly, and kisses Bandit on the side of his throat, just above the handprint on his skin. "Okay."

Bandit, suddenly impatient, steers him to the direction of the bed until he's sitting on it, and climbs onto his lap without hesitation. Jäger is still fully clothed and the fabric of his jeans must feel rough against the soft flesh of his inner thighs, but it doesn't deter him from rocking his hips closer. He’s already half-hard, but he hisses when Jäger brushes his fingers over his shaft tentatively, probably overstimulated from whatever he did before Jäger came to pick his pieces up. He falters, stills his hand in mid-action.

"Go on," Bandit pants, rubbing himself on Jäger's open palm.

"Are you sure?" he has to ask before tightening his grip, because he doesn't trust Bandit not to hurt himself, quite the opposite, he might actively _ try to _ in a state like this.

"I'm sure that I'll break your fucking fingers if you stop," he growls, and he sounds so wrecked already, even goes as far as whining when it becomes clear that Jäger still won't go on with the program and will leave him hanging. Jäger _has to,_ his brain is muddled with all the noises Bandit is producing without shame, but he remembers what he was planning to do and licks his palm wet in lieu of proper lube, already tasting Bandit's precome there. His teammate is watching him closely, pupils blown and irises at least two shades darker.

Jäger loses that particular view when the man scrunches his eyes shut and let his mouth fall open in a silent moan as he finally closes his fist around his dick. But the new one is even better.

He'd like to keep it slow and gentle, careful not to push him over his limits but Bandit won't let him, so instead he focuses on licking over the bite marks on his shoulders and mouthing the bruises, sliding his palm soothingly over ones he can't reach, ones on his thighs and hips. While none of them are made by him, it's _ him _ making Bandit flinch and squirm now, his feverish skin so, _ so _ sensitive. And the thing about Jäger is that he's always curious; he wants to know what makes Bandit's breath hitch (his thumb pressing over the slit teasingly), what prompts him to arch his back and make low, drawn-out sounds coming from deep inside his chest (slow, steady downstrokes with a firm grip, simultaneously too much and not nearly enough).

He doesn't last long. Jäger lets him fuck his fist with the pace he wants—harsh and single-focused—until his whole body goes rigid, and suddenly there is come dribbling sluggishly down his fingers. Bandit shudders and pants against his neck, like a man just got rescued from drowning, and curls in tighter.

Choosing to ignore his own hard-on that's been present since no-one-knows-when, possibly even before they started kissing, Jäger lets his clean hand linger on the man's backside for a moment until he calms down, and then pushes him away gently to enter the bathroom. He cleans Bandit's body thoroughly with a wet towel, not just of fresh come on his stomach but of every trace of sex. He is lying limp on the bed, eyes weary but still tracking his every movement. Even in a state like this he'll probably agree to a quick blowjob, but no matter how willing he is, it still feels like taking advantage. He doesn't know if Bandit would have wanted _ any _of this, if he wasn't desperate for a distraction, for a way out.

He brings Bandit a glass of tap water, which he drinks away without protesting. The tendons of his neck shift under the bruise as he tilts his head back. It's a mesmerizing view, and Jäger hates himself a little for thinking so. He wishes he can make it disappear with sheer force of his will. 

Bandit is quiet on their ride back to the base, but it's a different kind of silence from before, when he was full of restless energy, overcharged with tension. Now it's all fucked out of his system, and he must be crashing down, hard.

He is looking out the window, occasionally shivering with either the real cold or the one inside him, and when Jäger briefly takes hold of his hand and locks their fingers together, meaning to be reassuring, Bandit clenches his hand hard enough to leave crescent marks on the back of his hand before he lets go. Jäger doesn't mind it. They'll fade away, in a matter of minutes, and so will Bandit's bruises, given enough time. The one he's not so sure about lies deeper, around the gaping hole in his heart. He knows drug isn't the main source of his problem, but a coping method, albeit an extremely unhealthy one. Just like sex is to him. Jäger should probably forget what happened tonight; it doesn't have to mean anything.

"Please tell me you don't do this with Blitz every time he picks you up," Jäger groans, at the sudden thought that popped up in his mind, unbidden. Bandit snorts in the passenger seat.

"I'll leave it to your imagination."

He groans again, overdramatic, and the atmosphere between them is decidedly lighter, until he blurts out what's been on his mind for quite a while as he stops his car in the parking lot.

"You shouldn't just let a random guy choke you during sex, it's dangerous," he says, trying to make it sound like a passing comment, like it's no big deal, aiming for the tone he'd use for saying something like _ you shouldn't eat that much sugar. _ He's not succeeding at all, it seems, considering the way Bandit's expression hardens immediately. Jäger blames his big fat mouth for this, he _ knew _ that Bandit wouldn't take it well.

"Oh, and _you'll_ do it for me if I ask?" Bandit sneers, and just like that, Jäger is left speechless. He imagined Bandit bristling at his words, that it's none of his business, calling him a condescending shit, but certainly not this. What is this, a dare? A request? Or is he just mocking him? Jäger can't read people well unless there's some kind of a guideline to follow, and this is an unprecedented territory. Not to mention that this is Bandit, of all people. Bandit twists the corner of his mouth, its edge sharp enough to cut.

"I thought so."

With that, he gets out of the car, letting the cold night air slip in. Jäger can't move to follow, not when his mind is buzzing with questions. Does Dominic really want it from him? If he does, _ can _ he? He stares down at his own hands on his lap, balls them into fists, and tries to recall how the bruise looked like beneath his fingertips. 

He assumed Bandit would have gone inside already, so he startles when he opens the door on the driver's side.

"Stop thinking so much. I can smell your brain burning," Bandit mutters, and looks at him expectantly, so he steps out of the car almost automatically. Bandit studies his face, and something he finds there makes his features soften.

"Hey, I wasn't trying to force you into anything you're not comfortable with, okay? Just forget about it."

"But you want it?" he asks, because he has to be sure.

"I said, forget about it. I don't want Elias or Monika chewing my ass for breaking your pretty head."

"Elias _ will _ chew your ass anyway when he finds out you actually pulled this shit off when he's not around," he points out, with a faint smile. Watching Bandit trying to dodge around Blitz's righteous fury never fails to entertain him, because at some point Bandit eventually surrenders and takes whatever is being thrown at him with a defeated posture, in his own way of saying he's sorry.

Bandit looks relieved, which he quickly covers with a grimace in response to his words. He sticks his hands into the pockets of his jeans and leads the way to the base. Jäger walks after him silently, too caught up in his head to start a conversation. He glances up at his teammate's neck with no little amount of guilt, and yes, he was right, the bruise isn't peeking out.

"Dom, can you do me a favor?"

The suddenness of the question surprises even himself, but Bandit simply looks at him over his shoulder, not bothering to stop.

"I'll consider it, but only because you've done one for me tonight. What do you want?"

"Can I kiss you?"

Jäger isn't sure if it's okay to ask this now, when they're not in the heat of something and Bandit is more or less sober, or if it's kind of anticlimactic after the things they've done already. He isn't sure why he is asking, in the first place.

"Sure, if you want to," Bandit replies easily, and stops in his track to peer at Jäger's face, curious. His eyes are sharp and searching.

"I—," he wants to, he does, it is the only thing he can be sure of. "Yes."

Bandit, for once, keeps his mouth shut, at least for the purpose of talking, and pulls him in by the waist. He still tastes like stale cigarette, and his beard is scratchy, and Jäger _ wants _ to do this until it becomes impossible to forget what it feels like. He holds onto Bandit's arms for balance as he leans in closer, and his fingers finally stop itching with the phantom sensation of curling around something warm and alive.

**Author's Note:**

> In case you're curious, Blitz's instructions looked like:  
1\. Get his current location  
2\. See if he's hurt himself or someone else  
3\. Pay for what's broken (or the bail money, if necessary)  
4\. Erase all evidence and bring the sorry fucker back to the base
> 
> It doesn't specifically say "jerk him off if he asks" but sometimes you have to improvise, right?
> 
> I made a [tumblr](https://artikbear.tumblr.com/) to take requests, so come visit me if you're interested. Also Kudos and comments are much appreciated!


End file.
